Let's Talk About Wealth Baby, Let's Talk about You and Me

This post will traverse pleasantly as a butterfly will skip from one leaf to another in unforseeable directions at fluctuating speeds.

Just had an intense three weeks of lessons on Maui. I am not through them, but I have progressed in my residency here, both fixing and maintaining my Subaru into running smoothly, working three to five par-time jobs, and moved into my cabin on the water in Haiku (my view is of the north coast's expansive powerful ocean, a castle, and air so fresh you can see the world as it was intended to be seen). I discovered you need to be in tune when in transition to help sift through the new debris which approaches like a meteor shower without end until you calm your mind.

Best to calm your mind when you're feeling too hectic and to take a step back and consider the world outside yourself and not only your current circumstance. You can do it through rationality (everything physical in this world has an end), positivity (good things come to those who wait with honest patience), proactively (trusting yourself to make the change) or instinctively (living through practice, evolving with the environment and letting it show you the answer). Meditation can achieve all this too, but that's a discipline and art one can not penetrate unless fully commited to it.

During my three week absentee from the blog the theme or topic of what I have chosen to write about today, Wealth, has been on my mind. A relevant subject given the deterioriation of the American Dollar since the turn of the century, plus the state of the world at large today in terms of Japan and what is might emerge as a universally recognized new currency. With peak energy crisises where natural resources are shifting towards depletion, we might consider more thoroughly examing what wealth is, what makes a man wealthy and how we might choose to redefine it.

Some people theorize that the debt is going to continue to grow and the excessive spending is actually an attempt to crash the economy back to zero credit (not too far off Mr. Pahulniuk) where everyone will be registered into a computer electronically (and how about that Mr. Paranoia K. Dick). This leads many to exchanging there money for various objects (the ones that some ironically call priceless). Gold and Silver have gone up tremendeously in the past 11 years and those who invested then are surely wealthy now, right? Well in a dog-eat-dog Pirate world where we bleed for our flag treasure is both precious and concurrently very dangerous to own. Then there is land, which if you own, you're safe, just like the Native Americans. All our possessions we will soon value far greater than paper. I imagine the bartering system reemerging in full and market places to trade your extra squash harvest for a kidney are in order. And then there is ohana, family. And sharing food and beauty from the aina, land, with all of its dwellers. A less vindictive, agenda-oriented wealth that I'm going to zone in on.

Goodness Through Chaos

living-now-echoes of a self-sufficient-future
highways silent underground grinners grin
politics are hula hooping for the big black hat
workers grinding hands into Ms. Stubborn Earth
spoiled by the sand sprouting Israelites
she deserted her trees for some goddamn quiet
neglecting sweetness from the vine-ripened fruit
her inside out umbrella beckons the horny bee
who ages and circles hummin' time aint a crime

 So what is wealth? For me it is not measured in possessions and size, but rather internally. Is it knowledge, experience, intelligence? Good health, happy family, a trophy collection? Is it a roof, a newborn, a garden? Passion, love, balance? A series of happy memories to reflect on. I believe each culture and land perceive this differently and create separate truths, though I also think universally we share an idea or two, though often reluctant to admit it when you are at war.

Wealth isn't measured in volume, but in the quality of the sound.  Creating and adding your own imprint on this world through interaction, action, or reaction is another measure.  It is helping your neighbors in the midst of a storm remove their fences so their animals won't drown from a flash flood, it is seeing a monk seal give birth, teaching the next generation how to do more good than harm to this world, and wearing a genuine smile and laughing away a shitty day. Wealth is planting a seed and nurturing it until it starts to produce its own new seeds.

So right now, I may not be rich, and I can say that during the course of the last three years I've had to work hard to live the lifestyle that I desired to live and there were many times where I'd have preferred to have waken up in a different time zone, but I don't wish I spent a single day different, since it brought me here.


What am I doing to acquire wealth now? On the surface I'm living in Hawai'i and now rent/do work trade for my own place that for the first time in a while isn't communal living. I do my work trade by planting food and am going to help build/design a woodfire oven and clay cabin in the shape of a dome (all with attempts to make the property fully sustainable). In Kipahulu I work on sacred Hawaiian land with Kai to turn 7.7 acres into an off-grid sustainable farm with an arts and crafts Hale, a training gym, and a place where a community can gather to eat and enjoy their time with family in the heart of the jungle. It is also an effort to restore many Hawaiian plants and remove introduced invasive species, which have quickly escalated and greatly disturbed the natural eco-system here over the last 15 years. I'm spending time in Hana with friends on red sand beaches, clearing the jungle back and doing landscaping for others, and most recently, I was hired at Flatbread Company in Paia as a prep cook (a big step for me in my culinary pursuit). They sell delicious woodfire pizza and salads with all ingredients harvested from organic farms on Maui. I'm starting to write more (journalistic stories, poetry, and short stories), and played my first open mic a week ago. Right now, my bank account is nearly empty, but I've got jobs for the future, I'm high spirited, I've got friends and aloha and I'm on a beautiful island. But most importantly, I'm alive. And so are you.

My conclusion on wealth is this: You are as wealthy as the world you leave for the future generations. You can measure it by the smiles around you, the blossoming spring flowers, a crying child. I'm trying to do my part by building and planting and nurturing (maybe a little too literally), but why not join me in your own way?

Aloha and Mahalo for reading,

Matthew

Cruising Around in my Whistlin' Subaru or How to be Homeless on Maui

Some reflections and meditations on my 22nd birthday.  Life is good.  Off to camp on Lanai for a bit, then moving to Huelo, where an expansive ocean view and large jutting cliffs await.


Pink clouds give way to the rising sun.
Black, red, and white pebbles
perpetually washed by
The noisy blue giant. 
Kerouac's The Town and the City
and Zen meditations on my lap. 
Alternated with my own
feeble attempts at story and meditations. 
Odd jobs for food and gas money
and some grass to lay on. 
Back come the heavy pink clouds,
weighed down by a beaming sun. 
Then to dreamland I travel
through wet cloud tunnels
in-and-out of the milkyway
en route to inner space
where everyone is a shooting star


Sounds pretty good on paper, feels pretty good in spirit.  What, you may wonder, is missing?  For starters, I haven't slept within 15 miles of the same location two nights in a row.  It's been a loaded week, each day an adventure, each conversation an opportunity, and the only schedule I am willingly tied to is the sun's.

Ode to Running Water

your drawn out breath
lady-like grace
rebirth from the sky
humility of a masked hero
steamy and moist as a first kiss
under
starlit canopy, never unshining
always playing
glowing
silent
always


I've been able to reflect which is, when done healthily, a way to progress.  I perceive my relationships with people and the land and how they've changed and grown.  I see myself.  And I am different.  I have learned and relearned, and will continue to learn and relearn again.  I think of time.  I am uncertain of how each it passes for each soul, but am certain that as it passes for me, it passes for everyone.  I think of city life, and town life, and I know I prefer the town.  I dig elements of the city, the envelope pushers and whistle blowers and poets of the city walls.  But give me traditions, values, familiar, friendly faces (of both animal and human), and a life built from scratch any day.  We all fight our private revolutions.  I'd rather fight mine with the people I care for and know their story, intimately.

destined
to swim
in a never endless
long song
we wait
with infinite patience
and we play
and we pray
to each their own way

We humans are a social mamal.  We know nothing of the lives we pass every day. The beating souls and bone and flesh bodies that share our air.  We know nothing of them.  The same goes for plants and those with many legs and hands, big furry eyes, shiny flourescent fins, and let's not forget the winged-gods that soar in the way the air's breath guides them.  Yet, in this miracle of existence, we share their air.  And above and beyond the infinite horizon - we connect.  We connect to the night sky, the fertile earth, the animals and plants, each other.  We share intimacy, passion, good nature, belly laughs, and ripe fruit.  We share words and music, and we humans, a very social mammal, do so in a unique way.  How is life not a blessing?
I wrote this, below, on the morning of my twenty-second birthday.  It is the raw beginning of a story I am going to see through.

Shalvah

Shalvah sat.  A fierce and wiry looking creature hardened by life's waves of challenges at the age of one.  365 days since his planet shined with the equal light intensity on the date of his birth, where he was conceived at dawn in a cave, a promise of new beginnings.  Each direction he peered: a possiblity.  One filled with ancient critters hopping through tall thin trees, another flat and orange with bumps the size of mosquito bites, another masked by a layer of glistening waving enigmatic blue.  They all would bring him towards his destiny, which was the same for him as any other, an edge of the world cliff where time would prompt him with knowledge of what to do.

Abandoned by his mother after a week of full care and nourishment, Shalvah couldn't conceive of how to live.  Breathing was natural, for he heard the tide in his mother's womb for months.  But as for nourishment, his mother's milk and tiny insects were handed to him.  Until he was 8 days old, the child did not consider how spoiled he was, and only now began to suffer the consequences.  Shalvah sat, peering and brooding, curious and hopeless, til he inevitably fell asleep, curled in the fetal position on top of crackling dry leaves under a banana sized moon.

His sleep didn't last long, for he was on an empty stomach.  He felt ill and cold and miserable in this state of unhealth.  Young and fragile and without energy, Shalvah felt his blood thin and his muscles weak.  In this unwelcome state, Shalvah could only sit.  He fell back asleep with thoughts and images, flashing at first and then appearing steady, on the backs of his eyelids.  An unknown and unvisited reality began to creep its way into existence.  Just as the fire can illuminate the darkness and provide comfort to a disturbed two-legged land dweller, Shalvah felt a new sensation that night as he slipped away. Into his first dream.

Matthew K.

Thanksgiving 2010

A brief update on the happenings of my life and then I'll share something I wrote in December 2010.

Wow.  or Wowwy-wow-wow-WOW, as Christopher Walken would say with his bulging eyes and dancing hands.  This world is spinning, on a strange axis, and its inhabitants' heads are spinning too.  Three weeks after the earthquake and tsunami that shook the world and lent further evidence to certain gloomy theories and ancient prophecies, they begin to ship over concrete to help secure the nuclear power plant.  Three weeks!  Well, at least that tops BP's response time.  I could ramble here, but I'd rather take a different approach and share some stories that were told to me today at a Japanese Zen Mission in Paia right alongside Baldwin Beach.  

The Japanese and Tibetan Zen members congregated to celebrate the Buddha's birthday, right around 2500 years ago today.  One of the speakers was commenting on the initial shock and reaction on the day of the earthquake and how it wasn't chaos that ensued, but instead kindness, grace, and orderliness, three distinct qualities of the Japanese culture.  The speaker shared multiple stories, one of a convenience store that stayed open through the aftershocks of the night and had three clerks to serve each customer.  One to do the money exchange, the other to check the inventory of how much each item was priced, and the other to hold the flashlight, since the electricity had gone out.  There was another story of how patient everyone was in waiting to leave the city in the cars.  Even in a mass traffic jam, there weren't collisions and there weren't obnoxious horns beeping, except to imply 'thank you.'  This is a real admiral model for how to act if shit hits the fan closer to home.

In this very vulnerable time period, we must stay positive and excel and not sink.  It is a time where we need to help others because we will inevitably be needing help one day too.  It is a time for being grateful for what we have, even if it is meager, because whether we choose to believe in what our selective memory beckons us to believe, we can forget how far we've come.

The seed that was planted before my birth is growing and starting to mature in different stages.  This seed is  representative of my practice of Buddhism.  I am not on a path to devote my life to its calling, but I do intend to infuse it into all aspects of my life for calming purposes, to help ease my own and others sufferings.  I have fully evidenced the power of the mind to turn one's life around within oneself.  It was not a week ago that I was in a place in my mind where I was ready to leave this island.  Since then, I've had one of my best weeks on the island, maybe even a future blogpost.  I've slept in a different place on the island the last 6 nights, been around many fires and music and communal gatherings, and have been blessed with opportunities to live and work in many places.  The journey continues.  So here I reflect on another time of being grateful for what is at hand, what is given, and for the opportunity to have an impact on this world.

Thanksgiving Week at Quail Hollow Farm

I've not before celebrated this late November holiday with a tradition as rich as this year. Sure, I have participated in big meals, gotten together with my family, and have been grateful for all the gifts we've received throughout the year. It seems my life on the fourth Thursday of every November has been a slow, but necessary progression to really help me appreciate this year's special Thanksgiving day.

I have gotten over my youthful ignorant disdain for turkey, and no longer eat Chicken Parmesan and a blueberry yogurt. I escaped the cold last year and was thankful for my first Thanksgiving on a farm, being able to eat and prepare fresh produce. The food we ate was not what you would typically find on a Thanksgiving dinner table, but the abundance was awe-inspiring. We celebrated the day with friends and drinks and laughs and my belly has never been so expanded in its adult life.

This year was a different story. Let me preface with the facts. On Quail Hollow Farm the interns receive a book when we first arrive describing a year where a family eats local. All produce, from flour to vegetables to meat, are grown and harvested within a 100 mile radius of their farm in Virginia. In the winter, when the air and soil and weather aren't conducive to growing, they eat preserves. Here in Quail Hollow, they walk the talk.

In spring, the Bledsoes bought 30 day-old Heritage Breed Turkeys. Both Standard Bronze and Bourbon Reds. They were allowed to roam on pasture their first 4 months, and when the coyotes and wild dogs decreased the amount of birds from 30 to 15, we moved them to a pen and fed them organic grain and hay. This Monday before Thanksgiving is where our story begins.

We woke up to frost, only the fourth of the season. The hoses to hydrate the animals were frozen, and the air was bitter. I had an uneasy sleep last night despite my tasty dinner and decided to skip breakfast. I walked down to the farm as the sun was hovering above Virgin's Peak Mts. and little did I know, would not walk back up to the house until the light blue dissipated into a black sky. A desert black sky, sprinkled with yellow, like a child splattering paint onto an unreachable canvas. I was very aware of what the day was to entail, and knew well the reason for my uneasy sleep.  It was going to be a large meat harvest.

In September we processed 20 roosters, so this wasn't entirely foreign to me, but on that day I was strictly plucking the bird's feathers and cleaning out the innards. Today, I wanted to get closer to my food and, to me, that included catching and slaughtering the birds. We started straight after chores, and as soon as we prepared and sanitized the area, we were able to shed a layer of clothing. If the wind stays down, we would be very fortunate to have favorable weather on a day like this. And the day just got warmer as the sun grew taller.

I caught the first turkey and brought it over upside down by its talons, stuck its head through the hole in the bucket, and used wire to strap its ankles in. This bird was heavy. As you may know, birds do not die after their throat is slit, so it is essential to tie their legs together tight, or they will flutter out and run around nearly headless dripping blood for a good 30-90 seconds, depending on how clean your cuts are. Strapping a turkey in is much more difficult than a rooster, mainly due to the size and weight. Our turkeys were enormous. They lived on pasture and also lived longer, healthier, happier lives than your grocery-store bird. They weren't injected with water, or hormones, and were able to grow to their full sizes in time (without speeding up the process).

Our first bird was a big one, though not the biggest. We expected it to be around twenty pounds, but it felt heavier. The feathers were still on, and when we lifted it from the scalding water to pluck them off, we figured this bird was 30+ pounds. Then we dressed the bird. We cut off its feet and head, took off its feathers, and removed the liver, heart, intestines trachea and gizzard. We bagged the liver, heart, and gizzard for the buyers, and fed the rest to our extremely fortunate pigs, who have doubled in size since they arrived. Our first turkey weighed 25 lbs. We had 4 others who were 30 or 31, and our largest bird we cooked for ourselves on Thanksgiving, a 32 pound turkey that barely fit into the oven.

After the first five birds that Monte slaughtered, I found the courage to take the burden off of his hands and kill my first bird. We do it fast and humane and control the blood to spill in a small perimeter. I understood that the slaughter is an integral part of eating meat. I thanked the bird for its life and its flesh and let the bird fly away to its next one.

After the 15 turkeys, including a wild one which was fun to corner and catch since it could run nearly as fast as us and could fly, we moved onto the geese. The bane of our existence on our otherwise, lovely, serene farm filled with pleasant animal noises. (On Tuesday, when we walked down to do our chores and harvest, the mood was so pleasant and I couldn't place it until I realized the geese weren't interrupting our thoughts and rhythm.) Lark caught the first one by the neck, and I caught the next two on the run with my bare hands. This was my fist personal revenge animal and I didn't want the chicken hook to interfere. This wasn't necessarily a satisfying kill when I cut its neck, but it was an easier task than the other birds.

After the 3 geese, one for christmas and the other going to the sicilian head chef of Nora's Wine Bar in Las Vegas, we had to gather up roosters. We anticipated there would be 6. There ended up being 19. When the slaughter was over and the animals were processed and bagged, we hardly had light to clean up the area and I had not eaten anything except a pocketed oatmeal cookie all day. Fortunately, Stephen, Laura's brother had come to live on the farm for a little while and had arrived this past weekend.

Stephen had been living in Paris, playing Bach on the street on guitar every day for three months. He is a true artist, and practices in the house 2-6 hours a day. His robust laugh, great stories, and views on this world make for an incredible presence. He had prepared dinner and after I showered and cleansed myself of the morning and afternoon figuratively and literally, we sat down and ate his meal, all harvested from the farm. Porkchops with an apricot-maple glaze, sweet potatoes, apple sauce, swiss chard and melons. All prepared wonderfully. After dinner, when our bellies were extremely content, we set our first fire of the season in the fireplace (and it feels like it hasn't diminished since), and gathered around it on couches and chairs and rugs and lay there. Basically immobile, utterly exhausted. This is when Stephen brought out his guitar and played Bach, and though he plays it every day, Bach's music runs through his blood and he lives it. This paticular performance, for us, was pure magic. He played pieces that he also performed in a 5th century church in Paris, and we were put into a trance. On Thanksgiving day, this moment passed through my mind as one of the things I was most grateful for this year and it happened just a mere three days ago.  I didn't fall asleep until 1 am that night, thoughts bouncing and dancing around my head like the feathers currently engaged in child's pillow fight.

Tuesday. Woke up at 6 and felt great. Ate breakfast today. We had a big harvest planned for our thanksgiving baskets. There was a great vibe in the air, maybe due to the holiday spirit, our bountiful harvest this late in the year, and the quiet tranquility on the farm. We speak about the eerie calm before the storm, well there is also the calm afterwards, and this specific calm was palpable and soothing. We had more help today as the Bledsoe family began to arrive, and finished in daylight. One of the Bledsoe children brought along their year old Golden retreiver named Walden, and it was great to play with a puppy again. This week our baskets were overflowing. We had a mix of golden delicious and winesap apples, two giant sweet potatoes, a quarter of a large musque dei provence pumpkin (heirloom variety), mesclun lettuce, arugula, radishes, pomegranates, sage, anaheim peppers and broccoli or cabbage. Our shareholders did not go hungry this Thanksgiving, and neither did we.

Wednesday. It was an effort getting the baskets and our extra produce and Turkeys loaded up to go to Vegas for Market and deliveries, but we ended up on the road just before 8:30, starting at 5. Once we set up our stand at market, we went to pick up our new WWOOFER, Nella, hailing from the center of France. It's been a pleasure having her around and to discover all the amazing things she has already done in her life. She is in the middle of a world tour, starting in America and then going to Australia, New Zealand, China, and Southeast Asia next! How the beautiful world opens up when you quit your job in an office. Nella will be here for three weeks and picked a great time and place to enter Quail Hollow Farm. The rest of the day went off without a hitch and we picked up some essentials such as cranberries and nuts for the big meal tomorrow. The rest of Monte and Laura's kids arrived that night, and we had a nice talk by the fire when we got back. Two of their son's brought out night vision goggles and we checked out the view from the backyard. The most incredible part of looking through them was the stars. You could pick up galaxies hidden from the human eye. When most everyone went to bed, I stayed up thinking about tomorrow's dinner, which we were to have at 1:00 pm, hosting 27 people. Laura baked some pies that night, and more were to be cooked tomorrow. We manipulated the 32 pound turkey, basted with rendered goose fat, in the oven at 12:30 am for an overnight slow-roast.

Thursday, Thanksgiving Day!  For the meal, I contributed a cocunut sweet-potatoe pie with a spiced graham cracker crust, a salad from the farm including lettuce, arugula, spinach, walnuts, radishes, feta, onions, radishesand peppers, tossed with a pomegranate viniagrette. And most importantly, a goose. With the help of Stephen, who has managed multiple restaurants, and Julia Child and Irma Rombauer, I prepared the goose I slaughtered for the Thanksgiving table. The candied lemon and fig chutney rubbed on before browning gave it a great flavor. I was very happy that I was able to deliver a flavorful well cooked bird. The project felt like my responsibility and I was proud to see the smiles on the guests faces. After all, it was my first goose. We also had stuffing, pomegrante jello, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, pecan/apple/pumpkin/ sweet potatoe pies (totalling over 12), some of our preserves (pickled okra, dilled green beans, bread and butter pickles), and a 32 lb turkey. Stephen and I also made Turkey and Goose gravy from the innards and juices. Needless to say, 27 people with full stomachs, and still leftovers, though nowhere near the amount we predicted, which means everyone ate well!

A Thanksgiving meal from the farm is a very full experience, but one from the Bledsoe farm, which has such a long-lasting wonderful tradition, is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. After the meal begins the competition. We split up into teams picked out of a hat, with each of the children as a captain, and everyone participated in one of the four events. The didn't do fire starting with a flint stick this year, nor riflery, but the event ended in a tiebreaker, so rockclimbing was involved. Our first event was horseshoes, followed by archery, blowdarts, and wood-chopping (the main event). Two minutes to cut as much wood as you can, that isn't too large, or it won't count. The winner is the one with the most weight. Jimmy, the oldest son, won this year with an incredible 170 pounds chopped in two minutes. The children (23-31), totaled 660 pounds this year in just 10 minutes. There were many other small traditions that they carried out too, such as exchanging christmas ornaments at the end of the day. During that time, we were all thoroughly full and exhausted, but we managed to cut into some more pecan pies by the fire.

Thanksgiving this year was incredible and I slept like a log that night, because Friday was going to be another special day, a day of firsts. We woke up early, did our chores, then bundled up with all the layers I could find, because we were going christmas tree hunting in Cedar Mountains in Utah. This marked my first time in this special state, and I plan to explore more in the future. We spotted one beautiful tree about 100 ft or so off the road, and found another 4 in the area. Monte used a chainsaw and Jimmy used his axe, seemingly his weapon of choice, and we carried them to the trailer one at time with all six hands on some of the big ones. We were trekking through about 3 feet of beautiful dry powdery snow. I had never gone christmas tree hunting before, and I've never been in such deep fluffy snow. It's been about three years since I've played in fresh snow too. I had a blast throwing snowballs at the grandkids and getting tackled by them too. It was another special day, to conclude a special week. But not put a bookend on it, because I'm hoping to ride this holiday train and spirit all the way to the new year.

So now I sit next to the fireplace, grateful and satiated,

Next to a 16 ft. tall pine tree,

Grateful for the balance that exists in this world.

Grateful for the times when I find it.

Coming in from a cold night and sitting next to the fire

With warm cocoa, hot tea, apple cider.

I am grateful that I have found a lifestyle that is nurturing to me

And allows me to be outdoors most of the day.

I am grateful for my family and the friends I have made and wish them well

In their adventures throughout the world.

With every trial you face and every darkness you encounter,

Be aware that there is a light.

Though it may appear dim now,

It grows brighter in the future,

Happy Holidays!

Matthew K.

(I am without a computer so I'll be either trying to update this at friend's places or taking advantage of accessing the the internet through the local library.  I apologize if the posts are a little more infrequent, but I am continuing to write, just now doing so in a more three-dimensional historical sense of ink and paper and not just adding my ideas to the world of cyberspace, where nothing is secure.)